The River
by DarthTofu
Summary: All things come to be. All things fade to dust. Before they get to that 'fading to dust' bit, things get interesting. More explained inside.
1. Chapter 1

"Son of a…" Duo Maxwell squeezed off another round of fire at the masked men hiding behind an assortment of trash cans, dumpsters, and other refuse at the end of a back alley. His brown braid whipped up as he hurriedly ducked his head, the very end snagged by a well-aimed bullet.

"How are they this accurate, Heero? We're wearing black in the middle of the night, for Christ sake!"

The man he referred to, Heero Yuy, growled by way of reply. He popped up with a pistol once more and squeezed off three shots before ducking behind back behind his cover behind the brick wall both were using.

"Possibly they're using night vision goggles. If that's the case I'd say a bit of light ought to do the trick."

Duo nodded. "Unfortunately I don't carry flash-bangs with me. Too big, too bulky, and they're not about to kill anyone."

"Though currently they are."

"Yes, let's just pretend that I realize the irony of this situation and try to keep our lives, how about that, okay?" The American swung out from his cover for a third exchange of fire and let out a spray of bullets. The majority hit a large dumpster and the section of wall behind it, but a trio found their mark and slammed through the diaphragm of one of the masked men.

Ceasing fire Duo swung back around to grin at his current partner. "Got one!" he said. "Seems like I'm winning," he tacked on after a moment as his former remark failed to produce any response from his partner.

Silence ensued, and from the other end of the alley a voice could faintly be heard saying, "Son of a…"

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Abdul ducked back behind his dumpster as he watched Preventer fire tear through Achmed. The larger man, still in his full night-suit that he had hated wearing in life flew backward into another set of trash cans with the thing on in death.

"Son of a…" Abdul glanced over at his other partner at friend, Merde. It wasn't the Frenchman's original name, but he had chosen to adopt it as the word was typically used whenever he was involved.

His pale skin reflected the little visible light well, and while he was all-but-invisible when he was in the shadow that same pale skin made him stand out like an orange flag in a sea of white when viewed through night vision goggles.

"Those two are still out there," Merde called, speaking flawless Arabic. "Stop staring at the body and keep firing before they rush us!"

Achmed nodded, jumping up to shoot off a few more rounds from his AK-47. Before he jumped up to fire again the man paused to check how much ammo he had left and was glad he did so. The indicator showed that he had a mere fifteen shots left, and with the speed the gun fired at when fully automatic that was about two seconds worth of shooting.

Growling to himself Achmed pulled out another clip, fumbling with it and desperately wishing that he hadn't used all of his grenades and explosives attempting to escape the Earth Sphere Colony Embassy Offices.

Popping the clip back in and setting his weapon to three-shot fire rather than the ubiquitous fully automatic setting he popped up once more to fire. His first three shots went wide and the same held true for his second. Of the third trio of bullets one found their mark, prompting a hiss of pain from across the way.

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Heero swore in Japanese as a bullet entered his right tibia and continued through to lodge mid-way through the adjacent fibula. A quick glance at the wound revealed that it was bad and would bleed quite a bit. Without medical attention soon he would likely bleed to death. Hell, within the next half a minute it was likely that he would pass out from blood loss.

"Crap," Duo said, among other things as he glanced at his fellow Gundam Pilot's snapped leg. It had already given way and Heero had fallen forward onto his right knee, blood pooling around the wound.

"Bastards," the braided man muttered, swinging around and opening fire on the enemy.

"Duo… This bullet is lodged deep. Odds are I won't make it. There are some things you have to know before I… die," Heero said, the last word prolonged not because of the extreme pain, but because of an inability to find a more adequate word in the brief time he'd thought about it.

"Don't talk like that," Duo said, his voice preoccupied. "Reinforcements are on the way, odds are they'll have a paramedic." He continued to fire as he spoke.

"You're right, of course, but in any event…." The world was starting to get hazy, and some part of his brain was informing him that it should have quite recently ended any conscious activity. He pushed it aside.

"Listen carefully."

Duo paused for a moment to listen, not even bothering to duck back as he turned to look at his friend. A trio of bullets took him in the side of the head, lifting him from the Earth and flinging his twitching body to the ground several feet from where he had been standing.

Across the alley Achmed could be heard, speaking in Arabic. "Got one! Seems that I'm winning…"

Heero's last conscious memory was of a black can full of Preventers arriving and trying to wave an EMT off to inspect Duo. The man couldn't be dead. It wasn't allowed. And yet, it had happened…

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A/N: I'm trying to cut back on writing author's notes at the end of my fi.s as I feel that it somewhat ruins the spirit of the reader toward the end of the fic, but I felt it necessary to include one as soon as a made the decision to stop. Good thing I don't smoke! 

At any rate, I assume that you're currently confused about "The River" and why this story is called as much. I recently saw the movie "Big Fish" and, if you've seen that movie, you will know that the recurring theme, that is, "The River" is the place where the father wants to go when he dies. It is symbolic of death, and yet it is welcoming, an acknowledgement of all that he lived for.

For the record each section will be as follows: I will, completely unannounced and, in no order known to you, slowly kill off the entire cast from Gundam Wing. Sorry, I'm morbid that way. If it's any consolation I'll kill them all in different, creative, ways, though they all must die. I'll do my best to keep you on your toes (And I won't kill Heero with a car driven by a high teenager, Kami and ShadyLady ;D) Following each character's death will be their funeral, and I will of course include everyone's (That is, everyone who's still alive's) thoughts and feelings at the time. Some will be hurt by it, but other will react differently.

I actually, thanks to a very cool journalism class, have already figured out several of the details as far as the funerals will go. That having been said, I will, from now on, attempt to not include any more author's notes unless absolutely necessary to explain something.

Christ, I think the Author's Note is half as long as the fic!

-Lesser God


	2. Don't Fear the Reaper

**Don't Fear the Reaper**

Rain will, for as long as mankind is, seem appropriate at a funeral. The people in attendance all choose to allow the rain to get into them. The cold within their hearts and souls finds refuge with the physical chill, and people sink that much deeper into sorrow.

And yet…

And yet some will always view the rain as a tribute to those who lie before them. Each drop glistens, pristine and beautiful from the moment it is conceived. As it has been duly noted, birth is but the beginning of one's countdown toward death, and with the rain it is no different.

Yet it is a physical symbol of the person- their beauty and greatness in an all-too short physical life. Each drop will return in some form. Some will be part of a budding flower, some another raindrop, some an ocean, and some a river. Each drop, 'living' for only a short time eventually dies, smashing to the ground, and yet is reborn as something beautiful, a lasting tribute to both its own mortality and that of man.

Thus it was only fitting that it rained at the funeral of Duo Maxwell.

The mourners- and there were many- gathered around his coffin. His service was an outdoor one and, per his instructions recorded three years ago, he had an outdoor service that was both his memorial service and the lowering of his body. And it was open casket.

_He always seems to have the last laugh, that baka…_ Wufei Chang thought to himself, clinging to the secondary name he had given the man, incapable of bringing himself to accept that the man he'd used it to whip was dead.

He lay upon his back in a Funeral Jacket and tie, starting to bob slightly from the amount of water filling the casket.

_His face almost looks normal, now._ The embalming process had removed any and all traces of the three bullets that had entered his face and made him look, for all biological purposes, as though he were alive.

_And yet he isn't._ There was neither brightness nor the personality quirks that he had known in Duo when the man was alive. He simply looked as though he were sleeping like a normal person.

Suppressing a shiver Wufei smiled at how he'd caught the man on board Peacemillion, among other places, sleeping with his head propped up against a circuit board he'd been fixing, using his long braided hair as a pillow.

As more and more water pounded downward Wufei became slightly aware that a minister was speaking on the podium set up in front of Duo's rapidly-filling grave.

_Doesn't matter. Ignore it. _Wufei forced mourning out of his mind. The man was a preventer, now. There was no way he could allow himself to let a mere death throw him into sadness. That would make him a fool. Would make him weak.

He glanced over at Hilde, the woman's purple hair damp and obscuring her face which had become a mess of cosmetics.

_Would make me like a woman._

For nearly an hour he stood, completely unwavering and unprotected in a black suit and tie watching as Duo's hair slowly slipped free of its braid from the relentless rain, as his grave filled to the brim and a sewage company had to be called to pump the excess water out and as everyone around him disintegrated into tears. Even Heero.

And yet he did not cry. Did not allow himself to.

Slowly, deliberately, he walked to the coffin along with Quatre, Trowa, and Heero to act as the coffin bearers. One last time they gazed at the dead face before them, and right before the coffin was shut Wufei could have sworn that he saw the corners of his friend's lips raise in a smile.

_He's a baka. He isn't worth it. Limit yourself from this baka!_

He lifted the casket with no small effort as it was still veritably overflowing and walked to his position with slightly faltering legs as rain continued to pound down.

Slowly, silently, the coffin was lowered into its final resting place and each friend poured a spade full of dirt onto the lacquered wood.

_Goodbye, baka,_ Wufei thought, walking around behind the tombstone toward the church.

It was really a rather stupid tombstone. As per instruction it was that of those he had killed, and read "Duo Maxwell" with "The God of Death Finally Meets His Subjects" embroidered bellow.

Nothing to think about. Think not of some baka's tombstone. Think of your next mission, and do not allow these events to ruin your ability to think. Do not allow some baka's death to run your life. Do not shed tears, do not let yourself be hurt. Be a warrior. You are not one to cry, and certainly no for a baka.

"Wufei…. Wait."

Quatre had followed him, the young man's sodden blond hair plastered against his face in much the same way as his clothing had adhered itself to his body.

Wufei turned to look at the man and found him kneeling behind the tombstone looking at something. He gestured Wufei over and the man grudgingly complied.

When he got to the tombstone Quatre motioned for him to kneel beside him and pointed at a spot near the base of the tombstone.

There, in the untidy scrawl of Duo Maxwell was written, "Here lies the baka."

Wufei snorted at the reference, a last tribute to the man he'd tried to hate as much as possible.

He always seems to have the last laugh, that baka… 

The laugh more than anything broke him. Wufei fell against the tombstone, trying to support himself as he cried and laughed all at once.

He lay there until the rain stopped, then promptly stood, hobbling away. The rain was gone. Nature no longer mourned Duo Maxwell and neither would he.

Glancing at a puddle Wufei added in his mind, _He is no longer mourned. But by no means is he forgotten. Evidence of his having been here still exists. The man was a storm… It will be long ere we forget this one…_

_-Lesser God_


End file.
